Passing in the Fullness of Years

I am away from the congregation among whom I serve, but my being away has not stopped the cycle of life from moving on among my people. Two of our oldest, beloved members died within the last two weeks, in the fullness of years, of causes related mostly to just being old. Eventually, the body just wears out, it seems, though different ones of us do it in different ways and at different ages. I sit here, remembering these dear people, wishing them peace, knowing that for each, it was time.

Frieda was one of the members of the committee that chose to invite me to meet the congregation when they were selecting a new minister. I had "clicked" with the committee, and very much so with Frieda. More than that, her being on the committee said something important to me about the congregation as I contemplated my options. This was a congregation that honored its elders and did not exclude them from important convesations. That seemed really good to me. That was six years ago. In the time since then, she got sick, went into the hospital, needed more care in an ongoing way, and gradually went into decline. She continued to read poetry, converse with friends and family on a variety of topics, keep track of what her loved ones were doing, in short, to live every day to the fullest, even as her strength waned. And her many friends continued to shower her with cards, phone calls, and visits. The staff of the nursing home loved her. Then finally, at age ninety-four, it was time to go.

Harold had been a part of the church community for longer than Frieda. In fact, he had been baptized there as an infant, the first child to be baptized in the "new" building we currently occupy. That was 1914. He had been a postal carrier for many years, an active, healthy, outdoor job that kept him in good shape throughout his long life. He and Dottie, his wife, were very close through the years. Family really came first for them. Although they did not have children of their own, their nephews and nieces have been like children to them, especially in later years, when the rest of the older generation had passed away.

Still, Harold seemed distrustful of life in some way. One of the other men at the Masonic Home told me that Harold hadn't really gotten involved with the Masons, hadn't pursued the path that leads to those really deep connections the Masons have with each other. He had kind of given up on church, too. After George Niles left the pulpit and especially after the sanctuary was remodeled, Harold lost interest in church. He went to visit his sister on Sunday mornings after he dropped Dottie off to care for the babies in our nursery. Even in old age, living at the Masonic Home, Harold was reluctant to get involved with what was going on, toward the end even declining to attend the memorial services at the home that were held for people he and Dottie had known. She liked to play bingo, but he never did, and eventually discouraged her from participating. Life closed in on him as he grew older. Nothing anyone could say or do would draw him back to the enjoyment of life. The remaining nephew moved to Florida; the niece did not come to call as often. Life grew small and sad as it dwindled away.

So what to take from this comparison of Frieda and Harold's last years in their long lives? I think it's about the importance of remaining involved and active in an ongoing circle of relationships, of maintaining interests, of finding newness and fulfillment in each day. It's true: old age is not for sissies. It takes courage to face the days when life is ebbing away. But then, that's true of the rest of life as well. It takes courage and determination to love your way through whatever age. But in the end, it's worth it.

We loved both of them dearly. For Harold, it will be important to remember how he was maybe ten or fifteen years ago, to recall something of his vitality and enjoyment of life. For Frieda, it will be important to reach beyond our immediate, sweet memories of her as a very old person to recall her as a lover, a mother, a writer, a grandmother, a friend, in the days when the spirit of life surged through her and into the world around. Let us take heart and live well, nourished by their examples.